


a mark on my skin

by Liliace



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liliace/pseuds/Liliace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Soulmate: noun. a person with whom you can connect on a deep level; someone you have a strong affinity with and whose ideologies match yours; according to folklore, the person who has the second half of your soul</em><br/> <br/><em>Soulmate-identifying mark: noun. a scar that looks exactly the same and is in the exact same place as your soulmate’s; a scar that you gain before meeting your soulmate and instinctively know your soulmate shares; according to folklore, gifted to humanity by God to aid in the search of your soulmate</em></p><p> </p><p>Tony and Bucky's journeys from getting their marks to getting together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a mark on my skin

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't read the tags: suicide (attempt) trigger warning!
> 
> This is written in an unconventional way, so the messiness of the text is on purpose.
> 
> Starts before the first Iron Man movie, and mostly follows canon till post AoU.

It starts like this: Tony drunk, desperate, depressed. A knife pressed to his wrist, shaking and hesitating before that final push. Rhodey finding him just in time, quelling the blood flow while calling an ambulance, begging the stars to spare his best friend.

Tony waking up the next morning, confused and upset before realising what must have happened; then angry and upset, because he did not wish to be saved. Rhodey’s words of caring and hurt not helping, of course not helping because what could help someone who has no hope left.

Yet.

The mark. A mark on Tony’s wrist which he sees when a nurse peels the medical gauze away; the mark left from the cuts, yet forming a story other than suicide. A mark that Tony knows is not just his.

And that is how it continues: Tony never trying again because if his soulmate has that same scar, it means they’ll try – or have already tried – to kill themselves as well. Such pain cannot be allowed to befall them, so Tony has to be alive to help them.

Rhodey breathing a sigh of relief, Tony crying and sobbing all his pain out, and Obie helping him get back on his feet.

This is how it starts on the other end: pain, guilt, regret, anger and terror and hate – hate towards himself and those who made him into this – and then a decision to erase all that before a chance to do more hurt.

His handlers finding him too early, taking him to the doctors who heal him before breaking him again.

And that is why it continues: the Soldier never tries again because he doesn’t have a mind of his own anymore, never regains control after that short bout of clarity before seeing Steve again.

A first meeting doesn’t happen after SHIELD fell, doesn’t happen when Captain America is chasing the Winter Soldier. A first meeting happens before all that, before Captain America exists again and before Iron Man is born.

It is a glimpse of a captive with brown hair and sunken face and a hole in his chest, and the stumbling of thought because there’s something more to that than just a mission. It is a glance at another masked terrorist who is dressed differently, and focus being diverted from impending pain to this odd person whose presence is somehow both very wrong and very right.

It is nothing more, because the Soldier’s mind begins breaking anew, and he’s dragged away and frozen again before he has a chance to be free of his chains. There are only apologies and a different guard; not as good as the Winter Soldier, but good enough to hold HYDRA’s side of the deal.

Not good enough to stop Tony Stark from escaping, but good enough to stop Yinsen from joining him.

There’s no meeting during Captain America’s chase, or even when he finds his friend. There’s no meeting there because Steve Rogers does not trust Tony Stark with Bucky Barnes, and Sam Wilson believes that to be the best course of action.

A second meeting begins like this: Pepper frowning, asking Tony why he hasn’t seen the other Avengers recently. Rhodey coming to visit, sharing stories and mentioning that even Natasha sent her regards.

Tony deciding to see his old teammates and contacting Natasha with that request; not Steve, never Steve because Steve is too important, too huge, too precious to risk – risk that he’d say no, risk that he’d say yes but not mean it; risk that Tony ruined their friendship.

The meeting almost never happens. There’s a stumble, a halt in Fate’s path; Bucky Barnes killed Tony’s parents, is responsible for the pain that caused Tony. Yet Tony Stark is nothing but stubborn and clever, so he persists.

So the second meeting goes like this: Tony arriving, greeting all his friends, laughing and joking with them for a while. Then, then. Introduced to a man who is a murderer, who is Tony’s friend’s best friend, who is… familiar. Whose presence here is less wrong than it was before, and Tony remembers.

A fist in the face. Not for his parents, no; but for the months suffered in Afghanistan, the torture gone through and the hole that isn’t anymore.

Arms holding Tony back – both Rhodey’s and Steve’s, and Tony laughs as the sudden rage leaves him and he remembers again. Mind control.

So it’s an apology, an explanation; memories for Bucky too, and a glazed look before he bows his head and whispers apologies as well. It’s Tony saying that the punch covered it, more than covered in fact, and Bucky believing him.

For how could a man who has hurt, killed, and murdered, believe that anything is forgiven if there is no penance paid? So it’s a small smile from Bucky and a grin from Tony, and Rhodey and Steve watching on in confusion.

Coffee. The drink of gods. Tony drinks while Steve finds an icepack for Bucky’s face, and then he starts talking. Telling tales and stories and lying through his teeth but with a shiteating grin that everyone knows to mean he’s not telling the truth. Mock-whispering embarrassing secrets about Steve, and then Bucky’s laughing.

A quiet laugh that startles everyone, even Bucky, and then silence. Silence until Bucky starts speaking, sharing his own stories about Steve – little Steve with his body thin and short and so full of diseases because big Steve is in the army and army is where all the trouble started.

Steve listening on in wonder. Rhodey feeling out of place but not moving in fear of disturbing the moment. Tony, Tony with his mind filling with curiosity and his heart filling with doubt, but most of all, his eyes crinkling with laughter and his mouth drawn in an honest smile.

Then it’s not much more. Tony leaving, a frown crossing his features yet his mind lighter than in years, Bucky staying behind and wondering why it feels like staying behind; why he feels like there’s something he should have gone towards.

That’s the middle: being apart, growing separately, thinking about the other once in a while. Tony hanging out with Pepper and them loving each other until not. Until it’s different, not enough or perhaps way too much. Until the love is not romantic but platonic, until a kiss is placed on the cheek and not mouth, until almost-dying results in almost-break ups one too many times.

Then it’s a break up, crying, yet smiling through the tears because it’s not the end of their love. It’s still bickering, joking, exasperation and fondness and friendship. Steve coming over and not noticing the change until Tony offhandedly mentions it; Tony and Pepper not having told many people because it wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things, this one little change.

On the other half, the middle is thus: night terrors, guilt, sudden memories of things better left forgotten or better remembered – doesn’t matter, pain comes with both and then it’s sobbing and hurt and not being quite sure what time period it is.

But it’s also Steve, big Steve with his strong arms yet gentle voice and caring touch, affectionate words and reminders that Bucky isn’t alone. Sam with his wise words and careful questions, helping even when not meaning to because it’s his habit. Natasha with shared stories, similar pasts and guilt and regret, and comparing the red in their ledgers. It’s Bucky, Bucky who is not alone.

Then, what happens is this: Tony goes to visit the Avengers facility again and meets Bucky once more. Talking, chatting, laughing and hanging out with everyone – dinner, a movie, Clint showing up and ensuing pranks.

What Rhodey sees is this: Tony still missing Pepper, and then not. A strange bond between Tony and Bucky, perhaps formed because of how much they both appreciate Steve. He sees a bond, yet can’t tell what kind.

Natasha can, with her clever mind and sharp eyes and quick conclusions. She observes, takes note, mulls it over and then shrugs it off.

Not her place to interfere.

Fourth meeting is on a battlefield, robots flying around and Iron Man and Captain America and the Winter Soldier in the midst, all of them in New York at the same time for once. No one else; others all around the world, saving the world in little ways or big ones – later they hear about Rhodey’s mission, but not Natasha’s, and congratulate both of them. Flashy doesn’t always mean better or more important, no matter what Tony tries to insist.

But, their mission: destroy the robots before they have a chance to wreak more havoc. Iron Man flying around, Captain America with his shield, the Winter Soldier shooting and rarely missing. Then Tony clapping both of them on the back, Steve telling them ‘good work’, and Bucky grinning at them both.

Yet later, it’s Bucky on the ground, heaving for breath because his memories are suffocating and don’t leave room for such simple things as breathing, and Steve talking to him calmly and gently and trying to pull him out. It’s also Tony, sitting on Bucky’s other side, careful not to touch until Bucky comes back to himself. Then it’s a hand on Bucky’s knee and shared stories of his own panic attacks, and Steve watching them both sadly yet without pity.

What Steve sees is this: Bucky used to look embarrassed, and now he does not. Bucky used to try to hide away, and now he stays, listening to Tony sharing his own issues. Bucky used to think he was weak for having PTSD, and now he knows that other strong men have it too.

There’s a connection, but Steve can’t quite make it out. He asks Natasha, who shrugs and says Tony and Bucky should figure it out first, and Steve stops trying to puzzle them out.

A phone call, from the Avengers tower to the Avengers facility. A chat about everything and nothing between a super soldier and a genius, and then a talk about nothing yet everything between a man who used to build weapons and a man who used to kill on others’ orders.

And that is how it continues: a shared bond, created by something fragile yet growing stronger with each conversation – slowly, so slowly that Tony doesn’t even notice until Pepper asks him what’s going on between him and Bucky. Bucky, unaware of that question, doesn’t notice even then; for him, it takes until a night when he wakes up panting, but not from nightmares.

Yet for all they speak about everything, neither mentions that. Perhaps because of fears or guilt or not thinking it would work out anyway – doesn’t matter, result is the same.

Another hiccup in Fate’s plans; this time it’s not passed because Tony is stubborn, it is partly caused by it. But stubbornness is neither man’s only defining feature. Tony’s just so happens to be his intelligence.

So a flash, a sleeve tugged a bit too high, spread hands in the middle of a story. A glimpse of a mark that Tony wears the copy of; a shared mark, something Tony hoped and feared to find on anyone he cared about. The mark that made Tony decide to live.

Suddenly it’s not strange or odd or miraculous at all; it is expected, normal, perfectly logical yet more than it was before. A bond that was wonderful and now is less so, but means so much more.

A watch taken off; a watch used to cover a mark, both from the press and everyone around him because his attempt at suicide is a private matter. Yet, taking it off because this man in front of him is perhaps the only one with a right to see it.

Story interrupted, a wrist shoved in Bucky’s face, a noise – something low yet high, happy yet sad and undefinable yet with a logical definition – escaping from one of them, no matter which. Bucky’s eyes wide, Tony’s grin stretching his face, their hands suddenly clasped on each other’s forearms in such a way that their scars touch.

Then. Sadness, pain, realisation what that mark represents; not only their bond, no, but the way each of them got that mark. Frowns on their faces, confusion, yet through it all a desire to know, to understand their other half.

Tony begins. He has a freedom with words that Bucky still lacks – Bucky’s missions never involved telling stories, only giving short reports, while Tony’s jobs were always about spinning words. His voice falters, halts, stumbles, but never stops. Bucky’s eyes never leaves his, not until it’s Bucky’s turn to share.

Then there is nothing. No words, no story, no hesitance; there is nothing because Bucky has nothing, no memory of that moment. He knows it happened for the same reason Natasha did: their skill in assessing scars.

Bucky says nothing. Tony doesn’t mind.

Yet, then there are words. Words of explanation, reassuring, imploring the other to understand that it is not hesitance halting his story, no: it is the fact that there is no story. Tony minds even less.

The people they tell are few. Tony shares it with Pepper and Rhodey who both have an ‘oh’ moment, while Bucky shares it with Steve and Sam and Natasha. Surprise and shock, but not on Natasha whose mind is brilliant and eyes warm as she smiles at him.

The rest hear it from others. Offhanded mentions, sharing the tale, humorous jokes – it was never meant to be a secret, for what good would a secret do? There is no protection to have in secrecy because they are both fighting already, so they have no need to keep it to themselves.

Their relationship doesn’t change. No sudden confessions of love, neither asking the other out, no kisses or blushes or shy glances. Only jokes, comfort, affection and shared pain and love and regret, just like before. Nothing new; their relationship doesn’t need change.

But want. That is a different matter, one each ponders separately. Safety in their thoughts for this one requires secrecy; yet Pepper and Natasha and Steve and Rhodey and Sam know because what else is there to see?

And that, that is what Pepper sees: Tony in love with her before, rarely expressed in words but rather in actions; Tony in love with Bucky now, still no words but small deeds, tactile hands and a spark lighting his eyes.

What Sam hears is this: Bucky talking about guilt and lost memories, and then less. Now. Now Bucky talking about pain and new memories. There is Steve in his words, but also Tony who doesn’t seem to belong there like a childhood friend does. But Tony does belong there, and so Sam listens and smiles.

Change comes quickly, unlike any other aspect of their relationship. Only a couple of words – a Freudian slip – and then Tony stepping closer, asking for permission aloud rather than with expressions because Bucky has had control taken away from him too often. Bucky closing the final few inches between them, lips so soft yet chapped, the kiss gentle yet conveying more emotions than most could.

Night, and with it, a first time together. Words affectionate and actions gentle, praise and demands mixing together. Pain. Very little, less than ever before – both have been hurt and now having each other is about easing that hurt, not creating more. Sleep comes slowly, but neither minds. With sleep comes nightmares, even in each other’s arms.

Bucky wakes up first. Tony as well, then, and he holds Bucky until they fall asleep again. Then it’s Tony’s turn, and Bucky wakes up before him and gently shakes Tony awake. No more sleep. Not giving up, though, because neither does that. A strategic retreat.

Morning comes. Breakfast, and first reactions. Sam’s lifted eyebrows; didn’t know Tony stayed the night. Steve’s wolf whistle that makes no one blush. Natasha’s jokes and Vision’s congratulations and Wanda’s soft smile. Friendship; even more when Tony returns home to Pepper’s kiss on the cheek and Rhodey’s phone call.

And that is how it ends: Tony with his friends and Bucky, and Bucky with his friends and Tony. Their marks being more than why they were made, and Tony feeling grateful that he didn’t succeed; Bucky’s memories still a mess, but not without support anymore. Two marks, two halves; two lives intertwined, and less hurt than before. Some, but. Less. And that was good enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment, I'd love to know what you think!


End file.
